


All Secrets Are Deep

by dentalfloss



Series: All Secrets Are Deep [1]
Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek (2009)
Genre: A/U ish, Action/Adventure, Angst, BAMF!Bones, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reaper!Bones, Secrets, Violence, frienship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentalfloss/pseuds/dentalfloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones has a long, dark, secret history that far pre-dates Starfleet, but it isn’t until he finally joins Starfleet and subsequently meets Jim, Spock and the rest of the main enterprise crew that his secrets come to light; with or without his consent.  There really is no end to the numerous ways Bones' (aka John Grimm, aka Reaper) past could be introduced to his best friend and crew.  The question is whether or not he'll be able to remain with the closest thing to a family he's had in a lifetime, or if he'll be forced to leave his life with them behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This series my way of posting all the wonderful ways the crew could possibly figure out Bones’ history (as John Grimm) in one place. Every story within this series should be considered individual and unrelated to each other, but I felt posting them in one location would be easiest to find.
> 
> Author Notes: I’m Poaching the ReaperBones creation. I adore it! But the original idea is not mine and while I don’t know whose it is I am taking him out to play. Poor boy.
> 
> ReaperBones crash course (don’t read if you already know of this character blend): In case you don’t know who ReaperBones is (I am not at all the first person to write this character!) he is a blend of John Grimm from the movie DOOM, and Bones from Star Trek (both played by Karl Urban). The very very basic premises is that John Grimm was a special ops soldier who was unintentionally injected with a special 24th chromosome developed back in 2020. The results of this injection made him super strong, fast, intelligent, and capable of healing instantly. Like a supped up Wolverine :D Such a brilliant combination it makes me ridiculously happy like you wouldn’t believe!! In DOOM there were many bullets and explosions and gore and monsters and dead bodies and in the end John Grimm and his sister were the only survivors (supposedly). Since John has super healing powers ReaperBones came about as being John Grimm in the future whom adopted the persona Dr. McCoy to get by. That’s as much as I’m saying, otherwise I could be here for a few pages speculating on all the goodness :)

DARKNESS AND SILENCE

 

=/\=

 

“It’ll be like a vacation,” he announced winningly, blue eyes sparkling as he’d leaned against a clean, sterile biobed. One he had been a guest on only two days prior. Bones had done his very best to look unimpressed, his eyes narrowing pointedly at where Jim’s grubby hands were splayed over the hard, and microlined biosensitive surface. Jim followed his gaze and as soon as he realized exactly what he was doing he released the bed with a satisfying speed. The problem was that the momentum of stepping away from the molested biobed failed to carry the man right out of his sickbay. Bones glanced subtly to his left, eyeing the nearest station that held the emergency hyposprays, and that finally knocked a little of the self-satisfied smirk from Jim’s lips.

“A vacation,” Bones parroted back, drier then the Sahara.

“Come on Bones,” Jim needled, moving right into his space and practically herding him to his office at the other side of sickbay. Bones allowed it, but only because it was Jim. Also, he refused to acknowledge the indulgent smile his nurses shared when they thought he couldn’t see. “A few days off ship on a nice planet where the friendly aliens will cook, and clean and let you play outside,” Bones flopped (slid gracefully) into his chair and narrowed his eyes even more.

“You and I both know I won’t get a chance to ‘play outside,’” he crossed his arms argumentatively and watched carefully as Jim gingerly sat himself into his regular spot across from the desk. Jim caught him looking and gave a slight nod to say that he was okay. Bones had expected him to be a bit sore today, considering that only two days before he had been a visitor with a few broken bones, torn muscles, and the threat of permanent nerve damage to his left hand due to an encounter with a safe planets local wildlife.

Damned training missions with damned away teams that weren’t expecting anything to go wrong and had too many inexperienced officers to…he cut off his thoughts and gave Jim one more look before letting it go. It was done, nobody had died and Jim was fine with the exception of some residual soreness. Still, if Bones had been there then there would have been no way that animal would have gotten a hold of the boy.

Not a damned chance.

“They’re nice people Bones,” Jim tried a different tact.

“I have better things to do with my time then teach a bunch of witchdoctors how to use their brand new, Starfleet issued, hypo sprays,” he groused.

“See, I could have sworn that it was you I had a conversation with just last week about how these ‘backwater planets would benefit from having a little more training in preventative medicine’ so that they didn’t have to wait on the fleets med ships to come into orbit every other month to dole out vaccinations.” The bastard quirked an eyebrow, a habit he’d picked up only after he began hanging out with the green blooded goblin, and eyed him knowingly.

“You’re not winning me over here Captain,” Bones snorted and pulled a PADD closer to him, plugging in a few items he’d need to requisition for their next layover at a supply station.

“Wasn’t aware I had to win you over Doctor,” Jim’s shoulders relaxed a fraction and he sank more naturally into his seat.

“Send M’Benga.”

“M’Benga did the last run,” Jim was quick to counter.

“M’Benga likes teaching people how to jab each other in the neck,” Bones felt the need to point out, rolling his eyes at the very thought of it.

“You know if I didn’t know you any better I’d say you were being a snob,” Jim still had that satisfied grin on his face, blue eyes dancing, and even if Bones hadn’t known he would give in to the request the moment the insufferable man had stepped into his sickbay, he would have then just to keep the kid smiling.

He was a damned push over in his old age.

He snorted.

“And if I didn’t know you any better I’d say you want me off your ship for a few days.”

“Touché,” Jim’s grin grew into a soft smile, one that held an undercurrent of concern. “You worked through the last two shore leaves Bones, a few days dirtside’ll be good for you.” Bones sighed at the point, knew it was true, and was slightly disgruntled that the kid knew him well enough to know when he needed a break. Still-

“I’ll be working down there too,” he pointed out, pushing the data padd away and leaning back in his chair.

“Yep. With kids. Plus, it’ll only be half days, because the Drueen’s don’t believe in a nine to five lifestyle.”

“You have to do a lot rearranging to get this assignment?” He asked and Jim’s eyes flicked quickly down to Bone’s chest before meeting his eyes again and shrugged innocently.

“Nah,” the kid announced, not completely lying, but downplaying his efforts enough that Bones was touched by the thought behind it.

Pushover indeed.

“What’ll you be doing while I’m off having a ‘vacation’ for the sake of Starfleet diplomacy?” he asked, giving in and saying thank you all at once. Jim seemed to relax even more into his chair. The kid was more of a mother hen than Bones ever had the chance of being, and that was the truth.

“The blue shirts want to investigate some expanding nebula a few systems over. Close enough for a shuttle to reach in a few days if necessary, otherwise we’ll rendezvous at the end of the rotation.”

“Oh joy, a forced vacation with a pleasant couple of hours spent locked in a miniature tin can to wrap the experience up with.”

“Look on the bright side Bones,” Jim pushed up from his seat, trying to hide his stiffness out of habit. “You won’t be alone.”

He wouldn’t be alone. Bones frowned at the phrase. He’d expected a nurse or two to come with him, which was standard practice for missions like these, but that comment meant that Jim was probably sending other people along as well. Probably geologists if his memory of this planets mountain formations rang true.

“Damn it Jim!” He called after the retreating man, more because it was expected than any real ire, “I’m a doctor, not a babysitter!”

He was met with the smug swoosh of his office door closing.

He forced away the small grin that threatened and went back to work.

=/\=

He’d parked himself in the back of the shuttle, mainly because Chekov was also there, unsuccessfully trying to hide a hangover and flirt with Nurse Adiron. It was better entertainment value than sitting up front with a near mute lieutenant and nothing better to do than stare out at the vacuum of space. Plus it was always endearing to see the little Russian try so hard to impress the ladies. At least Adiron, ten year’s the boys senior, was being a sweetheart about it and joking back gamely. Jesus to be so damn young; he remembered what it was like, in bits and flashes and mostly with a deep seated urge to forget. He huffed out a near silent sigh at the thought and shifted in his seat, belatedly remembering to pretend to tired when Chekov looked over at him with slight concern. He scowled at the kid for good measure, only for the kid to grin slightly and turn back to his conversation, satisfied that Bones was simply grumpy due to a ‘hangover’ of his own. Considering he drank three times as much as the kid the evening before the condition was expected. He had even held off on shaving just to help cater to the look (regulations be damned, this was his ‘vacation’). Truth was, he felt like he did every day, which was one hundred percent fine and than some.

The subtle vibrations of the shuttle increased around him for a moment, shaking right into his bones before dissipating back to normal and he shifted in his seat again, this time with real unease. Three days of giving vaccinations, distributing tissues, and being surrounded by children had chased away the tension that built up with being trapped on the ship for too long, but one hour on this shuttle with increasing bouts of abnormal vibrations was bringing it right back.

He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, well aware that he was more sensitive then the average individual when it came to his surroundings. Chekov was no longer trying to flirt with his nurse, a thoughtful look on his face as he stared up front. Bones followed the look, to see the pilot look over her shoulder and calmly seeking him out. When there eyes met the woman nodded for him to join her.

The unease he’d felt since stepping onto the shuttle increased ten fold. He heard Chekov stumble to his feet behind him, no doubt to invite himself along on this little impromptu tête-à-tête. Bones resisted the urge to snap at the kid to sit down again until he knew what the problem was, seeing as it would do nothing but hurt the boy’s feelings. Once a bridge crew member, always a bridge crew member. If anyone understood how difficult it could be to remain on the sidelines when you were normally so deep in the action you couldn’t see below your nose it was Bones.

He nodded at the Drueen ambassador and Lieutenant Riot, his liaison for this trip, as he passed by. He noted the concern the betazoid officer was trying to disguise, and finally reached the front of the relatively small vehicle. He tried not to loom over the woman who was checking her controls much more frequently than was necessary for a cattle run.

“There a problem Lieutenant?” he asked softly, resisting the urge to grab Chekov and shove him a few feet away when the boy popped up practically under his arm.

“There might be sir,” she uttered softly, keeping her words to their little group for now. “You’ve noticed the tremors?”

“Yes,” he answered bluntly and saw Chekov nod from his peripheral.

“They began about fifteen minutes ago sir. Preflight checks indicated no mechanical problems and scanners indicated that we were passing close enough to a gravity well that it could cause them, but now I don’t think that’s the case sir.”

“What is it than?” He glared down at the readings on the console, seeing that she was indeed on top of things here and nothing looked amiss.

“I don’t know sir,” she was distinctly unsettled by this answer. “But the vibrations are increasing in frequency and strength,” and just to prove her right the ship shuddered around them, hard enough that the rest of the passengers were finally figuring out that something was wrong.

“Dat is not good,” Chekov muttered to himself and literally squeezed in front of Bones to get at the console. The Lieutenant shifted aside slightly to give the boy better access but kept her own gaze locked on her controls, the consummate professional.

“We anywhere near a port we can pull into?” She was shaking her head before he’d even finished the question.

“No sir. The Drueen’s home planet is the only port in this system and we’re too far out to risk the trip back now,” she didn’t add that it would be a stupid risk to try and negotiate re-entry through the atmosphere if the shuttle was really malfunctioning. Damn it. “The Enterprise is the best option sir.”

“How far out are they?”

“Nineteen minutes at maximum warp sir.” The shuttle shook again, and this time when it stopped it was clear that they were no longer on course.

“Patch me through,” he ordered and looked over his shoulder to see that the six people behind him were now paying very close attention. He held up a hand to let them know he’d tell them what was happening in a moment, and turned forward again as Jim’s jovial voice filled the front half of the small ship.

“This is Captain Kirk,” he declared with a little bit of smug thrown into his title for good measure.

“Captain,” Bones said seriously and watched the image of his friend flip from easy going to sharp professionalism in an instant. “We may have a problem,” he announced. Jim looked off screen and nodded to someone, no doubt Sulu, already giving silent orders to pull their ship around and head towards Bones and his crew without hesitation.

“A big problem,” Chekov muttered, his eyes going wide and Bones looked at him sharply, his body tensing, and blood beginning to sing with adrenalin.

“Report!” Jim snapped and Chekov stood sharply, his normal enthusiasm absent.

“All scans before launch indicated systems were normal sir,” he announced, tossing quick glance at Lieutenant D’Amande as if to reassure her she’d done nothing wrong. “However, I have refocused the biomolecular scanners back onto our shuttle and they have come back positive for Aloyonuclaric acid sir. It appears to have been placed on the starboard side, near the stabilizers,” he trailed off and the three of them looked out the shuttles window to the stomach twisting churning of the stars as they spun through space.

“There’s no way initial scans would have missed that,” Jim said calmly, his eyes flashing darkly.

“No sir. It must have been attached in a time release box just before launch,” D’Amande announced, and swallowed thickly. “Or it could have just eaten through the box to get at our hull.” This was the bitch of it. Aloyonuclaric acid could eat through just about any alloy, Starfleet shuttle craft included. It moved slowly, hence their stalled awareness that the stabilizer was being demolished, but it would get through it given enough time. This one had had time. Bones wondered who the attackers intended target was: Starfleet or the Drueen ambassador.

Not that it mattered at all right now.

“How much time before it exposes the shuttle to vacuum?” The Captain demanded and at this Chekov shook his head despairingly.

“I don’t know for certain Captain. If it has already eaten through the stabilizer, it could be minutes or an hour before it affects our atmosphere.”

There was a click, a whir, and everything in the shuttle shut off simultaneously. Including communications.

There were a few startled gasps. Chekov swore. D’Amande gripped the council to stop herself from floating out of the seat and Bones- Bones got angry.

“Damn Space shuttles and their damned malfunctions!” Bones growled low and deep as he grabbed the pilot seats back with one hand, tucked his foot under it for extra stability, and grabbed onto Chekov with the other hand as the kid was trying to anchor himself (not very successfully) and search for any functioning systems at the same time.

Bones’ vision adapted immediately and he looked behind him to see people groping around blindly for purchase, and resisted the urge to snarl in frustration and building fear.

“Riot!” He called through the din of people trying to figure out what the hell was going on as they floated in the black. The little light provided by the distant stars didn’t do enough for them to see by. “The emergency flash light is two feet from you at your three O’clock.” The man blinked in the dark, trying to see even as he groped in the ordered direction. He grabbed it, flipped it on and waved the beam around the place.

“Okay listen up people,” he squinted as the beam came to point at him, disrupting his keen eyes adaptability in the dark. He scowled and the light moved off to his side instantly. Another emergency flashlight was located and turned on. “As you can see: the shuttle’s broken. At the moment we think it’s due to an acidic agent that is eating through the hull. The enterprise is about fifteen minutes away and heading toward us as we speak, so what I need you to do is remain calm and help each other get to the back of the shuttle. Lieutenants Riot and D’Amande will assist everyone into their emergency spacesuits and then we’re going to sit tight until they come and beam us out of here.”

His eyes were drawn to a spark near a com unit on the starboard wall and he quickly looked back to the group.

“Let’s go!” he snapped, impatient that they weren’t already half way there. D’Amande floated out of her seat and moved to grip the handles in the shuttles ceiling, giving him a grim look as she passed. He turned back to Chekov, seeing the fear the kid was bravely shoving aside.

“Anything else I need to know?” he asked, and the kid shrugged helplessly.

“Systems are completely dead Doctor. If the acid has reached the internal circuits-”

“It means it’s already eaten through the shuttles outer layers and through the protected sheathing for the systems, I get it,” he cut the kid off, who looked grimmer by the second and nodded tightly. What that meant, was that there was only one thin wall left to penetrate, and it would probably happen before Jim got to them.

“I will work on trying to boost navigation system with auxiliary power-” the kid started up in earnest, determination etched across his face and Bones gently squeezed the shoulder he was already holding on to.

“No, I’ll work on that, you go get suited up.” Chekov looked like he wanted to protest, and then remembered who he was speaking with and mutely nodded instead. Still, he gave Bones a worried look that had him rolling his eyes on reflex. “I’ll come suit up as soon as everyone else is done and out of the way,” turning away from the instantly relieved look on the ensigns face, he scowled at the dead console and knew there was a slim chance of being able to reconnect auxiliary power to the life support. Still, he pulled himself down to the underside of the console and, foregoing a search for tools, ripped the metal paneling away with his bare hands. He’d figure out an explanation for that accomplishment after they were out of this mess.

Three minutes later he was no closer to fixing anything in this damn bucket of bolts and his sensitive hearing was beginning to pick up on a faint crackling hiss of acid on metal. If that wasn’t what danger sounded like than he didn’t know what was.

“Sir, everyone is suited up sir,” Lieutenant D’Amande announced just as he was pulling himself out from the unit to go and do exactly that.

“Good,” he grunted and turned. He was met with both Chekov and D’Amande, and could see the rest of his little party watching them silently from the other side of the ship. They were all suited up, as promised, but it was apparent that somewhere along the line they had misunderstood his orders.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, glaring briefly at a wide eyed Chekov who had yet to don his helmet, and a pilot who had yet to don anything other then her issued uniform. Folded over one arm was the thin space suit she should have been wearing. “I gave the order for everyone to suit up Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir,” she paused, her eye twitched, and then she barreled on. “One of the suits seem to have been sabotaged sir, it has a long tear through its back and its atmosphere cylinder was emptied,” she held the suit in her arms out at him, “this is yours sir.” She didn’t even blink.

He stared at her good and hard, noted the clenched jaw, and was so completely awed by her courage that he literally couldn’t say anything for a few moments. Right here, standing before him, was the reason he had enlisted in the fleet.

When they got out of this he was giving her the finest bottle of bourbon from his stash.

“Put the suit on Lieutenant,” he ordered softly and turned to Chekov, whom he suspected had argued to be the one to sacrifice his self but had lost due to seniority. “And get that damn helmet in place Ensign.”

“Sir, with all due respect you are the ranking officer onboard this craft and the CMO of Enterprise. You need to suit up sir,” she countered his order sharply, and he turned back to her.

“I know my place Lieutenant D’Amande,” he stared into her lavender eyes, “and that wasn’t a request. Get that damn suit on,” he reached out and squeezed her shoulder, “and get ready to keep these people calm until the Enterprise gets here.” He looked between the two. “I’ll fare better then either of you here so don’t worry about me.” She still hesitated. The hiss of the acid that nobody else could here burned into his ears and he flipped from Bones to Commander in an instant.

“Now!” He barked, and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer, falling into place as he expected and began pushing her legs through the suit. Chekov helped her, and in moments the two were buckling their helmets into place, but not before Bones noticed the slight redness around the boy’s eyes.

When they were finished he saw two suited beings float up to join them, emergency sealant clutched readily in their hands and he nodded at them to take place by the wall that would be breaching very soon.

“I doubt the exposure will be explosive, but I want everyone to be locked down securely just in case. If I see a single one of you getting sucked out we are going to have words when this is all over, understand?” he asked loudly, glaring at everyone equally. A few nodded back, the rest seemed to be frozen in place.

“Enterprise will be here in about twelve minutes, and they may be in transporting range sooner then that. Sit tight and don’t do anything stupid that could damage their rescue efforts. Lieutenant D’Amande is in charge. Understood!” He snapped to make sure they knew he meant business. He heard the muffled ‘yesirs’ through their supposedly sound proofed helmets. He took a deep breath and nodded, before turning back to the two in front of him.

“Under no circumstances is anyone to approach me once we’re exposed to vacuum,” he held up a hand to stall the protest he saw in both their eyes. “I mean it,” he dropped his voice lower. “Panic will make a man do crazy things, and I will not be responsible for hurting anyone.” He swallowed here, knowing that this was the real reason he hated space, wrapped up in all it’s simplistic, emotional glory. “You do not approach me, even if I’m not moving. Got it?” They nodded, Chekov a bit jerky under the helmet. “If Enterprise keeps her course I should be okay, but in the event that I’m not-”

He cut off sharply as the first of the acid dissolved a hole into the hull and the hiss of their air escaping was loud in the darkness. He whipped around, watching as the two manning the sealant guns pounced on the hole and closed it. They all waited tensely, looking for the next hole that would leak more of their…more of his precious atmosphere. He moved back towards the pilot seat and sat down, giving Chekov a look that clearly meant he wasn’t allowed to follow, and turned his back on their actions.

He heard the next hiss less then thirty seconds later, sealed as quickly as it came.

The Enterprise wasn’t going to make it in time.

=/\=

Jim sat still as a stone in The Chair, glaring at the view screen with such determination that she was almost convinced the man could physically propel them to the endangered shuttle sooner. It was painful to watch and she turned back to her communications after a brief glance towards Spock.

The message for help had come in almost seventeen minutes ago. They had done everything they could to get there as fast as possible. Ideally they would have already beamed the crew and ambassador to the Enterprise, but it looked like today wasn’t going to be their day.

“Scotty?” Captain Kirk barked out into the silent bridge. She tried communicating with the lost shuttle again with no success.

“No sign yet Captain!” the thick brogue cut through the bridge, clearly upset. She could hear him working rapidly at transporter controls, the slide and tap of stiff, experienced fingers coaxing the machine into getting any kind of reading on the missing crew.

“Understood,” The Captain bit out, the worry and frustration evident even as he remained calm and still. When they had lost communications with the shuttle, they had also lost their ability to track it. Scotty refused to attempt a transport without a definite lock, but until they could get one- her console beeped, she looked down and felt the warmth of relief flood through her.

“Sir! We’re in communication range,” she announced even as she was patching through to the generic commbadges every Starfleet officer wore.

“Shuttle Spectrum, this is the Enterprise. What’s your status?” The Captain was out of his chair, all motion after such long stillness.

“-eed emergency beam to sickbay Captain! Beam McCoy to sickbay NOW NOW NOW!” a woman’s voice cut sharply across the line.

“Beaming him to sickbay!” Scotty overlapped her message and the Captain was already halfway to the transport before looking over at Spock.

“You have the bridge Spock,” he announced just as the doors shut. It was only moments before Scotty announced that everyone had been beamed safely aboard, that the immediate emergency was over.

“Maintain the shuttle in tractor until we can properly examine it for hazards and inform Starfleet of our status,” her partner ordered as calmly as ever. She looked over to see him also headed toward the transporter, only the speed of his step belying his urgency. “Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge.”

And now the bridge was flooded with a different kind of urgency as they waited for word on their CMO.

=/\=

“How long was he subjected to full vacuum?!” were the words that greeted Jim as he barged through the sickbay doors, and his stomach just dropped as the meaning of the question hit home.

“About six minutes,” Lieutenant D’Amande declared loud enough to be heard over the rush of medical personnel swarming the biobed on the far side of the bay. Jim had been speeding towards his friend, but at those words he physically stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh no. Bones.

He felt an overwhelming urge to collapse right where he stood.

He knew what exposure to space could lead to, hell it was pretty much the first thing Bones had ever told him. But he’d also taken the courses at the academy. The Academy never shirked on what they believed were important details.

After ten seconds a human (and a majority of the sentient beings known to Starfleet) will experience impaired judgment and lose their sight.

“Increase oxygen flow two liters, and I need a more accurate time frame then that!” One of the Doctors, Jim had no idea who, snapped.

“It was six minutes Doctor,” Chekov’s unmistakable accent declared, sounding hollow in the air and Jim forced himself to take a step closer, finally noticing the two crewmembers still dressed from foot to shoulders in atmosphere suites off to the side. They were ridiculously pale under the infirmaries lights. They looked haunted. Scotty must have just grabbed everyone around Bones and transported them to sickbay so he wouldn’t waste time with differentiating between signatures.

“That’s impossible!” Someone snapped and Jim took another step closer, not sure if he could force himself to look at Bones like this. Not like this.

In space the absence of air pressure pretty much reverses the body’s ability exchange gas, dumping oxygen out of the blood and accelerating hypoxia. The mouth and nostrils would cool to near freezing.

“Impossible or not we need that hyperbaric chamber prepped yesterday!”

“It’ll be here in thirty seconds!”

“Don’t know what good it’ll do-”

“He’s convulsing!”

“Keep him on the bed and somebody cut his uniform off before the damn thing suffocates him!”

“I don’t even know where to touch him- I don’t know-”

“Just hold him damn it!”

A high pitched keening pierced the air and a few of the medical staff literally froze, staring down at the bed that Jim still couldn’t see properly. He caught a flash of bluish, bloated flesh before they pressed in again. It didn’t look human.

“He’s conscious!”

Jim’s legs became shaky.

A strong hand gripped his elbow firmly, holding him up. He didn’t have to look to know it was Spock. He’d never been so glad to see the half-vulcan.  
After ten seconds of full exposure convulsions and cyanosis would kick in, turning the skin blue. Without atmospheric pressure water in the body would boil, evaporating within the flesh and swelling it to twice its normal size. Without intervention, without administering pressurized oxygen in the first ninety seconds, the blood pressure would drop to the point that the blood would begin to boil and the heart would stop.

There were no recorded instances of anyone surviving longer then a hundred and twelve seconds of full exposure to space.

“There is no way he is still alive if he was actually exposed for six minutes. No way!” Someone insisted after apparently reading his mind, and Jim felt the first glimmer of hope, because if Bones wasn’t dead yet…

“We’ll discuss probabilities later. Cyanosis is visibly retreating.”

“The chambers ready,” a harassed tech announced and Jim flinched, looking to his left to see the large, coffin like structure that had been wheeled into the room and parked practically right beside him. The keening came back, and this time it was a lot louder, flowing right down his spine in a way that Jim knew he’d be having nightmares over for weeks.

“Let’s move him now,” the order came and as one they began to shift. Jim was stuck in place fighting with himself over whether to move forward and check on Bones, or move back and give them space, when there was a startled cry and then three people who surround Bone’s head seemed to topple over simultaneously. It cleared the way enough that Jim could see his friends face, bloated and unrecognizable, morphed into a grotesque monster and, sunk deep in a pit on the side, a dark, bloody eye gazed out at him. Unseeing and wild. Then the entire head lifted off the moving biobed.

“He’s fighting us” came the incredulous response as they hurriedly stood back up and reached for him. Two more beings went crashing away, this time from the vicinity of his legs.

“Dr. McCoy? Dr. McCoy you need to calm down sir. We’re trying to help you. If you can hear us you need to calm down” a confident, commanding voice ordered. M’Benga. Bones clearly took orders just as well when he was near dead as he did when he was fine, which was to say not at all. The high keening changed pitch, turning into a snarl that deepened as the seconds passed.

The hand on his elbow tightened when he made to move forward, to get closer to Bones, and he would glare at Spock for suddenly blocking him instead of steadying him but he didn’t want to spare a moment to take his eyes from the direction of his friend.

“Signs of cyanosis have completely disappeared. Am I reading this thing right?” An alarmed man asked.

“Yes,” was the hurried response. “Dr. McCoy we need to get you into the hyperbaric chamber to help decompressurize your body at an acceptable speed. You need to stop fighting us,” the woman pleaded.

“Off!” the growling was replaced with a weakly grunted order, but an order all the same. The medical staff rightly ignored it.

“His vitals are stabilizing; his swelling is showing signs of decreasing. What is going on here? He should not be recovering like this,” a doctor breathed out.

“We should still get him into the chamber, we can properly monitor him from there-”

“OFF!” the command was nowhere near as pitiful as it had been moments ago and this time Spock didn’t stop Jim from stepping forward as the group collectively cried out and Bones rolled right off the table, pushing through their desperate, helping hands. “Don’t touch!” He growled and Jim felt sick as he pushed between two people to see his friend, swollen up like a giant marshmallow, his thighs as large as his torso should be, stomach distended like a balloon and his face a lumpy, flushed ball of flesh. Completely unrecognizable, except for the birth mark on his right hip that was just as stretched and bloated as the rest of him.

Bones viciously flailed at the hands that tried to help him, one massive paw connecting with a nurse and they both cried out in pain and shock.

“Don’t touch,” he gasped, and attempted to crab walk away from the group and only flopped about. When they tried to surround him again he swung out and grabbed the nearest object he could find: the portable biobed he had been on. Without hesitation he threw it between himself and the rest of the group, taking two more of them out in the process.

“I believe Doctor McCoy does not wish to be touched,” Spock announced, his tone indicating that they had better accept his observation as an order immediately or there would be hell to pay later. The medical staff heeded his words and made no more attempts to approach their CMO as he writhed on the floor.

“Bones?” Jim crouched down to his level, and dark, blood shot eyes gazed wildly in his direction. “Bones, its Jim. You’re on the Enterprise but your hurt. We need to take care of you,” he practically begged the man, but Bones snarled and finally managed to scramble away from him, from them all. He didn’t stop until he hit a wall, and then he curled up against it and hid his face in his hands.

“Don’t touch me,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “G’me a minute,” he slurred, voice thick and forced.

“Okay Bones, okay. I’ll be right here as soon as you need me,” Jim said softly, Spock standing at his back and Bones nodded jerkily, his shoulders hitching and his breath loud in the silent sickbay.

Dr. M’Benga moved to crouch beside Jim, a medical tricorder pointed steadily at Bones and even without looking Jim could tell the man was confused as fuck.

Well, join the party he thought sharply.

Bones rocked back and forth a moment, took a deep, shuddering breath, and let out a scream that could be heard half way back to earth, until falling utterly silent. Jim was going to need a dermal regenerator treatment after this because his nails had be cutting the palm of his hands he was clenching them so tight.

“He shouldn’t be alive Captain,” M’Benga said softly, looking between the tricorder and the would be patient. “The probability of his surviving even two full minutes out there as exposed as he was is literally zero percent.”

“Unless Dr. McCoy is not as human as we have been led to believe,” Spock cut in. Jim stiffened, resisted the urge to get up close and personal with his second in command and tell him exactly what he thought of that logic. Except that he couldn’t, not here, while he literally watched as Bones’ flesh shrank back to the shape it should be. Normal, human white, tanned skin was in place of something that had literally been blue and bloated and disgustingly deformed only minutes before. He couldn’t argue it when his CMO should have been dead three times over.

“Let’s clear everyone away,” he said instead, looking pointedly at M’Benga and seeing the understanding in the mans eyes as he stood to make sure people understood that this was a private, medical matter and that it was not to be discussed outside of the individuals within this room. Ever.

Chekov appeared kneeling beside him, silent and wide eyed as he stared and stared at Bones. Jim thought about pointing out that it was rude to stare at a commanding officer who was huddled in front of you, naked as a jay bird, but he understood the need and therefore let it go. For now.

It was another few minutes of long silence and hitching breaths before Bones finally, slowly, moved his hands away from his face and slightly uncurled his completely healthy looking body.

“Jim?” he asked, the strength of his voice earlier had been completely wiped away now, replaced by a tired, wary man. Jim could relate.

“Right here Bones,” he reassured instantly, and swallowed thickly when his friend’s eyes roamed in his direction but didn’t settle. “You okay?” His voice may have cracked, but that was only because his throat was dryer then the sun.

Bones barked out a humorless laugh. “I’ve had better days,” his voice was soft and rough, like he was just waking up from a deep sleep. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked, still unfocused, and then looked in the general direction of Ensign Chekov. “You okay kid?”

“Da, I am okay,” his shaking voice didn’t really inspire confidence.

“I have procured a set of clothing for you,” Spock announced, stepping forward and holding the items out towards the doctor. Bones looked up towards the Vulcan’s face and slowly reached a hand out. A normal, non bloated, non blue, steady hand which missed grabbing the proffered items by half a foot. Bones sighed and Spock lowered his arm to his side.

“You are still blind,” he stated.

“It’ll pass,” Bones shrugged and Jim finally broke out of whatever haze he’d fallen into while watching his friend heal from deadly wounds right in front of him.

“It’ll pass?” He asked quietly, and Bones closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. “Is this something you know for sure? Something you’ve experienced before?” He bit out and was relieved beyond belief when his friend shook his head, because thinking that the man had gone through something like that twice made something in his chest twist painfully.

“Never experienced that before,” Bones muttered, rolling his shoulders to hide a shudder. “Was pretty much the reason I hated the idea of going into space though. Never want to experience it again. Sanity.” The last word was mumbled, almost incomprehensible but Jim understood it, as did Spock.

“Jesus Christ Bones,” Jim was scared shitless, and let the anger that burned inside come to the forefront. “Are you even human?” He regretted the harshness of the words instantly, his concern for his friend trying to push through when Bones didn’t even blink at the accusation, just looked up and met his eyes. Jim didn’t know what to think of the emotions being locked behind the dark gaze. At least they weren’t bloodshot anymore.

“Yes,” he growled out darkly. “I’m human.”

“Good,” Jim reigned in his emotions, aware that the medical staff were close enough to eavesdrop if they wished. “Cause that would have been a bitch to change in your personnel file.”

It was a long moment before Bones snorted, took a deep breath and thunked his head against the wall. Jim thought about telling him to be careful, but considering what the man had just healed himself of he figured the admonishment would be overkill. The relief in the action though, that was something Jim was going to have to lock away to remember in the future. That relief, so willingly shown, told a very important story about his friend.

“Perhaps we should move to Dr. McCoy’s office for further discussion,” Spock ordered more then suggested and then stepped forward boldly and offered his hand to Bones. Jim couldn’t help holding his breath while they waited in a long moment of silence, before Bones reached out and allowed the Vulcan to pull him to his feet.

“At least let me put on a damn pair of pants first,” he growled, doing a good job of sounding as normal as possible.

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of Bones,” Kirk smirked at him and grinned as he scowled back even as he snatched the once again offered clothes from the half Vulcan.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep an air of mystery Captain,” he drawled as he focused on shoving his legs through the garment, his balance still clearly affected. No one offered to help; they knew better.

“I don’t think you have a problem there Bones,” Jim said softly, shifting back to the seriousness of the situation, trying to mask the hurt that Bones hadn’t trusted him with this. Trying to remember that there must be reasons, good reasons, and when Bones looked back at him, the shadows and pain in his eyes, the history that Jim had always been aware of (and so, so naive about) lurking, he knew that whatever reasoning the man had, it was real.

Bones held his eyes a moment, and then nodded before walking through his sickbay, medical personnel parting as he passed. Jim and Spock followed and Chekov made a strangled little sound that Bones heard, even from across the room. He looked over his shirtless shoulder at the kid, rolled his eyes and nodded his head in exasperated invitation. Chekov wasted no time catching up to his leaders and practically bounced through the door into Bones’ office.

“Unbelievable,” Bones muttered tiredly, and in that moment Kirk knew, no matter what, things were going to work out just fine.

End.


	2. Ashes to Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As is the way of things, time doesn't stop for any man and age has a way of catching up to even the greatest of them. Well, most of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Character Death

Ashes to Ashes

=/\=

The floors were a dark wood, old and hand sanded to near perfection. They didn't creak as he moved along, his hand reaching out here and there to gently rub at an Andorian ceremonial rug, up a heavy wooden beam that built the frame of the large home, across the old fashioned glass that held paper photographs. Windows made up as many walls as actual wood did in this place, showing a lack of concern for privacy except for the fact that the glass was ingrained with microshade responsive technology. Outside the near full moon bounced off the trees and lake, the mountains looming like silent sentries beyond and around them. It was beautiful here, peaceful and full of life and he wouldn't expect anything less from his friend.

He reached the end of the hallway, the old-fashioned door hung open half way, and he stopped there and leaned a shoulder heavily against the doorjamb. His chest ached; the hollow pain of loss that followed him like a bad smell crawled up his throat and threatened to rip a sob from him. Sentimental old bastard. He bit his tongue hard and pretended that the liquid gathering in the corner of his eyes were from the physical pain. He forced the tears away and breathed deeply.

His target lay in the centre of the massive bed, propped up by the mattress and an overabundance of pillows. Wires traveled to disappear beneath his silk pajamas, an IV (still the best method of fluid intake even after all these years) running into the crook of his elbow and secured with enough tape that a bullet probably couldn't get through it. He eyed the tape and his lips twitched in a foreign grin. It seemed that he was still a bad patient.

He didn't know how long he stood there, time not really meaning much to him anymore, and just watched his friend, remembering. Minutes, days, years, they were all the same to him and when he spent too much time alone he could admit to himself that that was the darkest tragedy of his existence.

Jim shifted on the bed, squirmed weakly for a moment and let out a heavy sigh. He lifted a withered hand up, his coordination poor from the ailment of age, and rubbed at his neck before letting it fall back across his heavy comforter. Then he froze, and rolled his head to gaze right at him. He must have looked like a statue standing as still as he was in the doorway. It wasn't difficult to see Jim's face in the moonlight that pierced the room. Three of the damn walls were glass.

"Who's there?" Jim rasped out, squinting to try and see, brow furrowing slightly, lips twitching.

He remained silent under the scrutiny, frozen in place. When he'd awoken the week before, the near debilitating urge to see Jim flooding (not new) sharp and fresh he hadn't thought on anything except to get here, by any means necessary. He hadn't formed a plan, he hadn't thought beyond crossing the galaxy to check up on the man.

He swallowed thickly and held his breath, wondering if Jim would just go back to sleep. Lord knows he was old enough and weak enough to do just that. But apparently he was still stubborn enough to defy expectations, and his watery blue eyes flashed a moment in interest.

"Sean?" He whispered, too weak for much more, and he couldn't take it anymore, and he couldn't walk away, so he cleared his throat, not trusting it to work right the first time.

"No," he spoke quietly, roughly, unable to help the gruffness that was so inherent with who he was now.

There was a long heavy moment of silence where Jim blinked heavily a few times and then took a sharp, deep breath.

"Bones?" His voice cracked a little in the middle and was so faint that a normal man wouldn't have heard it as anything other then an exhalation. It was as loud as a canon to him. It shook the ground he stood on.

Bones. He hadn't heard that name in a long, long time. It felt like coming home. Like slipping back into his old skin. He wrapped himself up in the warmth of it and finally stepped into the room.

"Yeah Jim, it's me." He looked at the machines vital readings, fingers itching to find and pick through his medical charts, to see everything he could, find a solution. He stepped up to the bed instead, and after a moments hesitation perched lightly on the side.

There was no solution to old age, nothing that wouldn't damn a man.

"Lights," Jim rasped, and they clicked on with a humming that only Bones could hear, dimly set and blacking out the view beyond the windows that surrounded them. Bones looked down at him steadily, noting the heavy wrinkles, the frailty, the liver spots and watery blue eyes that felt like they were looking right into him. Jim may be old, but he'd kept his mind.

"I see you managed to keep your hair," he declared softly, looking pointedly at the thick, white strands and Jim snorted, eyes crinkling a brief moment.

"And you managed to keep your youth," he replied. Bones met his eyes and nodded once. "Didn't die in that shuttle crash then. Told them you weren't dead-" Jim trailed off, the way he did when he was remembering the more significant moments of his life, and Bones felt it like a sledgehammer to the chest.

"Takes more then a shuttle crash to kill me," he admitted softly. "But it hurt like hell."

"Should kick your ass," Jim hissed, the spark of anger that was always so carefully hidden flamed bright and Bones looked away, unsure if he could handle it if Jim, of all beings, was unable to forgive him.

"I had no choice," he defended softly, trying to hide the regret that had plagued him daily since he had stood back and watched his shuttle burn. Pilot error. Plasma fire. No remains.

"You had me." A warm hand, boney, wrinkled, and uncoordinated, bumped into his thigh and he wasted no time gently grasping it in his own, rubbing a thumb over the paper thin skin.

"I did." He agreed, but he wouldn't have done that to Jim, not then, when it mattered and Jim would have followed him into the pits of hell with no regard for his own life. Well, news flash, his life meant something to Bones. It always had and always would and he was not going to be the one responsible for ending it in his prime.

"What are you, then?" Jim asked and Bones chuckled darkly.

"Human Jim. I'm human." Because if he hadn't been human he never would have had to leave. Aliens were accepted now, the norm, respected and trusted and different, but a human like him, so advanced, so strong, so old…he wouldn't have been left alone. Not yet, maybe never.

"You're an idiot," the weak voice rasped, the hand squeezing Bones' in support, so light he almost didn't notice it, and he barked out a soft laugh, knowing it was ragged and breathy.

"Yeah," he agreed, not really much point in arguing; never was with Jim. They sat like that for a long moment, Jim's lax hand in his, dim light illuminating the large room. The wall beside the door was covered in pictures: Jim, his wife and baby Sean having a picnic: Jim's wedding day (Bones had been there, tucked away and evading the ridiculous security that hadn't stopped him or the assassin that had slipped in. Bones had ended the killer without a moments hesitation, took his body with him after the ceremony, dumped him in the river): Jim, Sean and Sean's little girl smiling with a huge gap where her front teeth should be: Jim and his favourite officers of the Enterprise on her maiden voyage, and another almost the exact same only five years later when they set out on their second tour. The only difference being that this time they made no attempt at looking formal and proud. Huge, mischievous grins covered their faces. Spock (the only one not smiling) stood passively next to Uhura, a hand staking claim on her arm; Chekov, Sulu and Scotty had their arms over each others shoulders, and Bones himself scowling at Kirk, who had the biggest grin of them all, and an apple in hand.

Then there was the picture where Bones was actually laughing, a full on grin that he was self aware enough to know was rare, even in those days. Jim was beside him, his own smile soft, real, content. They were looking at each other. Bones didn't remember that photo.

Jim stirred in the bed beside him.

"Get this crap off me," he ordered/pleaded suddenly, eyes drifting from where he'd been watching Bones to the medical leads and taped arm.

Bones looked at him a long moment, and then without a word moved from the bed to silence all the equipment alarms and shut the machines off. The leads came off with no effort, the taped IV took some work and he scowled as he peeled it away as gently as possible. The whole time he felt Jim's steady gaze on him, saw the hint of a smile out of the corner of his eye. When he was finished he shucked his dark jacket, toed off his thick combat boots (some habits died hard, and a good pair of boots was one of them) and walked on quiet feet to the other side of the bed.

"Lights off," he ordered softly and peeled the heavy duvet aside. He was going to roast under this thing. He slid between the covers and after a hesitant moment reached out and began shifting Jim around, not even noticing the mans weight.

When it was all said and done Bone's arm was underneath Jim's back, tucking him close to his side and propping him up. After a moment Jim shifted, twisting a little to lay his head on Bones' chest, his arm reaching across to wrap over him, to hold onto him, and he relaxed completely, a soft sigh of contentment.

"Missed you Bones," he murmured, breath wispy from the exertion.

"Missed you too kid," he rubbed his whiskery chin lightly against the top of Jim's head.

"Waited for you." This time Bones didn't try to stem the tears that blurred his vision. "Knew you would come."

"Was always there for you kid, you just couldn't see me." There was a long moment of silence.

"Sneaky bastard." Bones chuckled, couldn't help it, and pulled Jim closer. He watched the stars through the skylight. Time moved for him again, and he wished that it would just stand still.

"Take care m' family," Jim whispered into his chest and Bones kissed his hair.

"Always Jim. Always."

=/\=

When the early sunlight spilled through the room Sean stepped quietly in to check on his father and froze as he came through the door. Understanding was instant, a heavy, hot feeling blossomed in his chest and his knees shook, threatening to crumble beneath him. He pulled up the chair from beside the bed and sat heavily.

He rubbed at his eyes, pressing the tears back, and took a breath before looking up.

Dark eyes watched him intently, no apology present for being in his fathers bed, for holding on to his fathers cooling flesh. Only grief to match his own.

"He always said you would come back," Sean's voice rumbled in the quiet.

"He was a smart man."

"Genius," Sean countered, smiling a private smile that somehow he knew the other man understood. They were silent a long moment as he began to accept the loss he had been expecting for months now, until it sank in and he could gather his thoughts again. He looked upon the dark haired, scruffy man who had his father wrapped so protectively within his arms and a different kind of loss took residence within him. "You don't look a day older then your pictures," he decided.

"You look just like your dad at your age." Sean was sixty-five. He saw the peace on his fathers face, he looked younger then he had in years, and smiled softly. He had inherited more from his father than just his looks.

"Come on old man," he pushed up from the chair, still shaky with loss and relief that when the time had come his father hadn't been alone. "It's time you met the rest of the family." He saw the uncertainty mixed in with the sorrow that Bones' emotional face just couldn't hide, and smiled softly. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: That was my first and will most probably be my last character death story but I really wanted to write it and I hope that it portrayed Bones and Jim's relationship well.


	3. Sharp to the Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more stern look and a hard stare at Commander Spock, and McCoy was gone.
> 
> “Well, that was fun,” the Captain muttered quietly and Sulu turned back to his console, slightly more worried about the away mission to come and slightly less worried about his Captain.

His breath stuttered in his chest and then stuck, a pained gurgle escaping, paralysis consuming him as naturally as breathing had a moment ago. He knew his eyes were as wide as saucers, his hands up, phaser locked and loaded, mouth a gaping O of shock. He didn’t care. At the moment how he looked was literally the last thing he could think about right now. He had bigger things to worry about now. Things that the rest of the away team were probably just as consumed with but strangely he couldn’t be bothered with them. The way he figured it his senses seemed to be playing tricks on him, his hearing was muffled and while he could see people around him they were blurry and dream like. Distantly he realized this bothered him, because as a pilot he needed to stay sharp, be diligent, and he’d been through worse traumas before and pulled through them without blinking an eye. He was practically a damned warrior. But this…he hadn’t really prepared for this to happen today. Or ever.

It wasn’t really something you could prepare for, aside from having a medic on hand to fix up any bumps and scrapes they would gather along the way. But this. Sulu sucked in a sharp breath and the world came into focus with a snap he was never likely to forget. This was something not even the best doctor in the ‘fleet could fix, even if they happened to actually have him on hand this time. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, and clenching his teeth he forced himself to glance down. This was going to be a problem.

This was the mother of all brightly feathered, three foot long arrows, and it was sticking right through his chest.

=/\=

Earlier…

“Bones!” His Captains delighted greeting announced the Doctor’s arrival on the bridge and Sulu shared a quick look with Chekov before turning in his seat, just in time to see the full extent of the greeted mans scowl aimed right at their Captain. If looks could kill Sulu would technically be obligated to jump in between the two men to save his leader from such a fate. As it was Dr. McCoy was one scary badass when he was in one of his moods (even if rumour had it that he’d done rather poorly on his hand to hand combat courses, barely scraping a pass, and therefore they had no real concern for their immediate safety) and Sulu valued his life enough to stay out of the way. Frankly he would rather take on phaser fire, and seeing the genuine grin on his Captains face he was once again forced to wonder at the sanity of the man.

He believed the term the good Doctor had used, several times, to describe Kirk had been ‘bat shit insane.’ But who was quoting? As far as Sulu knew the diagnosis had ever been officially entered into the captain’s medical log and until the day it was Sulu could overlook the fact.

“Jim,” McCoy pressed out from between clenched teeth, not bothering to spare anyone else on the bridge a nod in greeting. “What’s this I hear about you going on an away mission this afternoon?”

Uh oh. Sulu bit back a grin of delight at the Captain’s quickly hidden look of unease.

“You mean the landing party that’s heading down to Cappa XI to take material and atmospheric samples as per orders from our beloved Starfleet?”

“I don’t give a good damn what you children are doing poking around on that jungle infested rock. Damnit Jim, you are not leading that mission.”

“Bones-” Jim looked momentarily pained, giving a quick pointed glance around the bridge which Dr. McCoy blatantly ignored, crossing his arms and upping his scowl to the glare of Doom.

“I let you out of sickbay last night with the promise of good behaviour. An away mission the very next day is not good behaviour, Captain.”

“Sure it is,” Kirk smiled sunnily again, even if Sulu could already tell that he was going to give in to the CMO’s demands (unless it was for life or death situations he always did). He was still looking a little pale and to be honest Sulu had been a bit concerned. “Besides, I was going to take Samurai Sulu here to defend my honour, just in case,” he waved grandly at Sulu and Sulu made no attempt to hide the fact that he was blatantly watching the fireworks and not his console. McCoy turned to look at him sharply and he gazed back seriously; Hikaru Sulu was not a fool and one did not pretend they took the safety of Jim Kirk lightly when dealing with the CMO, not even to joke around. McCoy nodded, as much an acknowledgment of respect as he ever gave, and turned back to Jim.

“You’re not going.” He announced with finality. Sulu didn’t take the decision personally.

“I am going,” Captain Kirk crossed his own arms, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Its science stuff, let Spock mind the pack,” the good doctor volunteered and Commander Spock finally looked up from the console he was plugging away at, clearly unimpressed by the entire exchange.

“That is not an option Doctor, as I am scheduled for conference with the High Command for the duration of the afternoon shift.” Kirk snapped his fingers and pointed at Spock to help emphasize the point.

“See, he’s busy.”

“You’re not going.”

“Somebody needs to keep an eye on them Bones, and unless you’re volunteering for the job I’m doing it.”

“Sulu is more then capable of keeping things in line,” McCoy stated, clearly unimpressed.

“He is,” Kirk agreed easily, sending warm fuzzies through Sulu’s chest that he would never admit to. Ever.

At this point the Captain and Doctor entered into a staring contest which seemed to convey an entire conversation that not even Uhura was capable of deciphering. It was full of eye quirks (the Doctor) and twitches of the lips and cheek (Captain) and squinting (both of them) when finally McCoy uncrossed his arms and threw them out with a wide huff.

“Fine!” Sulu wasn’t the only one who was surprised by the easy capitulation, and he was also not the only one to notice the slight ease of tension in their Captains shoulders. He hid a frown. Clearly Kirk was worried about this milk run, and apparently McCoy had picked up on that because there was no other reason Sulu could think of for them actually needing such a senior officer on the material gathering expedition. “But I’m not holding their hands while they play in the dirt; who knows what contagions they’ll pick up,” he grumped. Then he pulled a medical tricorder out of nowhere and quickly scanned the Captain, who put up with it with nothing more then a gracious eye roll. One more stern look and a hard stare at Commander Spock, and McCoy was gone.

“Well, that was fun,” the Captain muttered quietly and Sulu turned back to his console, slightly more worried about the away mission to come and slightly less worried about his Captain.

=/\=

It was hot, humid enough to feel like you were breathing in water, and pretty much everyone was completely soaked through from the damp undergrowth of the forest. To top it off McCoy had been getting more and more antsy as the hour had bled on and the further they trekked from their shuttle (which was not that far as it was taking a ridiculous amount of time to pick through the vegetation) and that made Sulu tenser then a violin’s string. The three scientists on the team didn’t seem all that concerned, dropping every so many meters to take fresh plant/soil/water/whatever samples.

Sulu eyed McCoy again as they stopped, noting the way his eyes skimmed the foliage quickly, barely resting anywhere yet seeming to take it all in. His blue shirt was plastered to his chest with sweat, and the non-regulation cargo pants he always insisted on wearing during missions were bulging with whatever medical equipment he thought was necessary for this trip. He had a frown on his face, which wasn’t unusual but it was pinging all Sulu’s warning bells, and his hand hadn’t stopped hovering near his phaser for the last five minutes. Sulu scanned the foliage, eyes jerking to the right when he thought he saw movement, only to see more vegetation.

The blue shirts stood, indicating they were ready to continue, two of them speaking excitedly to each other, when Dr. McCoy shook his head negatively.

“That’s enough samples,” he drawled. “We’re heading back.”

“But Sir, we haven’t reached the river yet,” Ensign Kalya frowned in confusion and Sulu automatically fell to the back of the group to cover them. McCoy looked at him and nodded. Stay sharp was the order, as if Sulu needed it.

“No we haven’t, and we’re not going to. There’s something out there, and it’s watching us. I’m not taking any more chances so let’s get going.” To their credit the three officers immediately fell into formation, hands at the ready by their weapons and their eyes suddenly looking carefully around.

“I don’t see anything, and there’s nothing registering on the scanners other then vegetation,” Kalya pointed out and when it became apparent that McCoy wasn’t going to respond Sulu did.

“Vegetation can be sentient and dangerous,” he made sure to put a little bite into his words, just enough to warn, because Kalya had virtually no mission experience and this was something she needed to understand. “Never underestimate it,” he tagged on and then ordered Lieutenant Joannou to cover the back as he pressed past them to reach McCoy, who was practically stalking back through the path they had only just made. There was a clearing just up ahead. Another two hundred or so meters uphill after that and they would be at the shuttle.

“Any idea where it is?” he asked softly and McCoy shook his head sharply, nose twitching as if he was smelling the air. He looked sharply to the left.

“Can’t pick ‘em out,” he rumbled softly. “There’s more then three, but how many I’m not sure.”

“I can’t see anything,” Sulu admitted, trying to force away his frustration and doubt. The first time he’d questioned the Doc on an away mission they’d been ambushed and he hadn’t been prepared. A year later and he was still feeling the ass reaming the man had given him once they were all back on the ship safely. He didn’t know how the guy did it, but he had some kind of crazy sixth sense that Sulu would swear trumped Spock’s if he didn’t know any better.

“They’ve got some kind of camouflage,” McCoy muttered softly, pausing at the clearings edge and, not willing to take the time to go around, led them cautiously into it. “Skin practically melts into the bushes, like a damn chameleon. Can’t pin ‘em down, and I have no idea of they’re hosti-”

Three beings stepped into the small clearing before them. Sulu stopped alongside McCoy. He had trouble focusing on them, the only part of their apparently naked bodies that wasn’t shifting colours with their green background were the four black eyes protruding from their neck area. Or what he figured was their neck…and their eyes. He didn’t take too much time to stare, as the massive arrows they had aimed right at them drew his main attention.

Shit.

There was a long moment of stillness. Then one of them chirped like a bird, high pitched and piercing. They did it again.

“Easy now,” McCoy soothed, using the voice he reserved for children and traumatized beings. Sulu kept his hand hovering over his weapon, not willing to pull it just yet in case it tipped them to violence that could otherwise be avoided.

Now would be a good time for a beam out. Too bad the atmosphere made that option more dangerous then the indigenous people before them.

“We’re not here to harm you,” the doctor tried. For a moment they seemed to lower their arrows a bit before the one in the middle chirped again, and between one moment and the next there was a twang and a heavy wet thunk replacing the doctor’s soft words. A startled look entered his eyes, and a massive arrow ripped through his chest. For a moment, time stood still and all Sulu registered was: Arrow. McCoy. Chest.

Until it sped up again.

“McCoy!” He unholstered his weapon and pointed it at the natives, only to see that they had lowered their weapons half way and were still, their numerous beady eyes trained on the Doctor.

Behind him someone gasped sharply, the clicks of phasers being ripped from the holsters and the three officers fell into a semi circle around them, which was good because as soon as Sulu had figured that the aliens weren’t going to immediately shoot him, he was turning to the Doctor.

“This is going to ruin my day,” the taller man frowned staring down as his chest. Sulu stepped towards him, ready to catch him as he fell, his heart in his throat because there was no way Bones was going to walk away from this. No way. The arrow had literally ripped right through his chest and shirt, the sharp point sticking out from his back just beneath his shoulder blade.

“If they so much as look like they’re preparing to shoot again take them out,” Sulu didn’t bother to hide his outrage, letting it leak into his steady words. He forced the near blinding rage he felt bubbling up inside him away, and looked McCoy right in the eyes when he turned to him. After everything the least he could do is be there for the man right now in these last moments. He reached out.

McCoy sighed.

“Really, really ruined my day,” he rumbled darkly, rubbing a hand through his wet hair.

He remained standing.

He looked down at the arrow, a dark haze entering his eyes, before he gently batted away Sulu’s helping hand and reached awkwardly behind himself to grasp the few inches of arrowhead and shaft sticking out, and abruptly snapped it off.

“What the fuck!” Joannou hissed, breaking formation as if to help steady McCoy.

“Maintain your position!” Sulu ordered sharply, glancing from McCoy to their attackers and Joannou thankfully moved back a step. Thankfully the hostiles weapons remained lowered as the silently watched them. “McCoy, what-” he didn’t quite know how to finish his question, and was saved from having to as the clearly psychotic Doctor glared at him and wrapped a large hand around the feathered end of the arrow still sticking from his chest. He took a deep breath.

“Think you can keep a secret?” he asked softly, and then ripped the thing from his body in one long, smooth move. This time it was the aliens that cried out, suddenly bouncing up and down before turning tail and dashing back into the woods. The sounds of a panicky retreat came from all around them and it was a full minute before the sound of shifting underbrush faded into the distance. McCoy poked at the hole in his shirt and, upon seeing the look Sulu was giving him, ripped it open a bit more, exposing the flesh where the weapon had gone in.

There was nothing there.

There was a long moment of silence as they all stared at the dead man walking, before Sulu finally felt his heart beat slowing down, slightly. He looked up to meet the dark gaze of a man he realized he knew very little about, and shook his head slowly.

“Not from the Captain,” he answered.

“That’s fair,” McCoy responded after a long moment, and then looked at the other three officers that seemed to be regrouping well, even if Kalya looked a little pale from shock. “Let’s get back to the shuttle before they decide to see if the rest of you can survive a pig sticking.” The haste at which they followed his orders was distantly amusing to Sulu, and they were loaded up and flying back to the Enterprise within ten minutes, thick jungle terrain be damned.

Sulu called the Enterprise and gave a brief, private report as soon as they broke atmosphere while McCoy tucked away in the back with the other officers, no doubt giving them instruction on how to handle what had just happened. Sulu didn’t bother going back there to join them, deciding to fly manually so he could maintain a little distance and regain his own perspective. When they docked and shuffled off the small ship Sulu saw Captain Kirk and Commander Spock already standing in the shuttlebay, waiting. The Captain had his arms crossed over his broad chest, the Commander was at a comfortable parade rest with his hands hidden behind him, and they both had very blank faces. The scientists hesitated the moment they saw this.

“Glad you’re back safely,” Kirk announced swiftly as soon as they stepped off the shuttle, his eyes missing nothing as he looked them over. He nodded at the three, lumping them into their own little group. “Go get cleaned up, we’ll debrief in three hours.” He ordered flatly.

“Yes sir!” they snapped off and practically fell over each other to get out of there. This left Sulu standing there with a tension headache pounding between his eyes and his hands clenched into tight fists. The flight back hadn’t done much to help calm him down. The Captain looked at him hard, meeting his gaze for a long moment, searching for something. Sulu gave him what he could without using words and apparently Jim found what he was looking for when he finally turned to McCoy.

McCoy who hadn’t stepped further then a foot outside the shuttle doors and had pretty much shrouded himself in some kind of invisible armour that sent massive waves of repelling energy in all directions. It was the first good look Sulu had taken of him since they had begun their second hasty retreat from the planet. The wall that he’d erected around himself was so big and obvious that Sulu cringed at the thought of what must be going through the Doctor’s mind, and for a long minute McCoy and Kirk became locked in another bout of silent communication. The difference between this conversation and all the others that had taken place in such a manner was that McCoy was giving nothing away. Not even an eye twitch. He could have been carved from Vulcan stone.

After a minute of this Kirk had had enough and let out an angry, frustrated huff. He then stormed up to McCoy and before Sulu clearly understood his intentions, he wrapped his fingers in the Doctors blue shirt, barely a drop of blood marring it, and pushed it right up to his neck to expose his chest to all of them. McCoy visibly tensed, but allowed the handling and Sulu instinctively understood that if it had been anyone else trying that on McCoy they would have been lying flat on their back with a broken jaw before they even got their hands within reaching distance. Kirk eyed the expanse of pale, moderately haired skin critically, and Sulu focused in as well, searching for the hole that he already knew was gone. Healed. As though the mortal wound had never touched him. When Kirk frowned and reached up a hand to rub at the spot where only a speck of dried blood remained McCoy apparently lost his patience and smacked his hands away.

“Damnit Jim, I’m not an attraction at a petting zoo!” he snarled and Jim finally looked up from the hole in the shirt to meet his eyes, before he snapped lightening fast arms out and dragged him into a rough hug. He then shoved him away just as abruptly and punched him on the arm. Hard.

“No,” Jim practically growled. “Apparently you’re a freaky super healing mutant who’s been keeping secrets from me!” The slight ease gained from the earlier actions instantly retreated and McCoy began to wall off again. “Which is a damn good thing,” Jim continued with a heated glare, “because frankly I’m in no mood to break in a new CMO, isn’t that right Sulu?” He cocked a forced smirk at him and finally, finally Sulu felt the relief that he’d been holding at bay since he realized McCoy wasn’t actually dead flood through his chest. It damn near knocked him on his ass.

“Yes sir. Would be a damn shame since we’ve just gotten him bridge trained,” he agreed. McCoy scowled, still guarded but not as much as before. Sulu allowed a tired grin, which he considered was monumental considering the afternoon he’d just had.

“Spock, I don’t think this little incident needs to go into the mission reports, do you?” Jim continued and they all turned to look at Spock, who looked from the Captain to McCoy and quirked an eyebrow in what was apparently emotionless consideration.

“I’m afraid I am not aware of the incident you are referring to Captain, aside from a preliminary report dictating the discovery of a previously unknown indigenous people who exhibited violent threats upon first contact.”

“You’re the vulcan Spock. Bones, let’s grab something to eat,” he requested, because even after this, perhaps especially after this, they all knew that Bones never really followed his orders unless it was important. Then again, as the three men nodded at Sulu and then turned to head to the Captains private mess Sulu was hard pressed to think of their discovery about Bones as anything but important.

McCoy gave him a lingering look and Sulu met his eyes, letting him see his relief, his anger and the questions he had. After all it wasn’t everyday he thought a friend was dead before discovering they had miraculous healing abilities. Had he known that he could have been spared the agony of those moments, thinking he had failed a man he both admired and thought of as a friend, trying to comprehend his loss even while maintaining his diligence. He let McCoy see this, not holding it back, and after a moment the doctor seemed to finally understand what Sulu was conveying. He gave him a short nod, a promise that he would meet up with Sulu later so they could have a meeting of their own, and they would see where things went from there.

With a sigh Sulu dragged himself to his quarters to shuck his soaked clothing, grab a shower and get started on the very detailed, slightly doctored report that he would be presenting and submitting in three hours.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he had so much practice with these ‘types’ of reports and he wondered if any other ‘fleet pilots were as fortunate as him.

End.


End file.
